Romance. The Tide’s Return At dawn the sea gave Mara the black umbrella again. It came up the dry riverbed sideways, ribs intact, silver handle dulled by salt. She stood among the wet stones in her green coat while gulls worried at the moss below the cliffs. The river had not...
Romance. What the River Took By day, Bell Street crossed the border town in a straight line, its wet stones polished by cartwheels and winter boots. At midnight, the river changed direction. Water withdrew into the eastern channel, exposing stairs, a drainpipe, and doors beneath...
Romance. The Weather Beyond the Window At the western edge of the country, where the cliffs wore moss green and the stone remained wet beneath a sunless sky, the Monastery of Clockmakers kept its towers. Every tower held a clock with no hands. Every clock disagreed with every...
The Country on Her Hand On the highest floor of Bellweather, where the stairways ended and the roofs began, the night market opened beneath a sky stitched from copper and cloud. There were no streets below the first floor. The city had been built upward for generations, its...
Romance. The Clock Beneath the Stacks Mara rowed her narrow boat through the drowned archive, poling between shelves that rose from the water like roofless cathedrals. Moss softened the wet stone. Marigold floated on the surface wherever the lanterns had burned through the...
Romance. The Last Dish Before Midnight The river divided Vey and Ordan along a seam of moss green, but the border was easiest to see when the water changed direction. For one hour before midnight, it withdrew into its eastern channel, exposing the dry riverbed: pale stone,...
After their mother dies during a flood, two former wives have six days to empty the family house. The water has exposed letters, debts and an old betrayal that neither woman managed to bury.
Lorna has repossessed cars for eleven years without carrying anybody home. The next blue Ford on her list belongs to Sasha, who once taught her how to kiss and then disappeared.
Paradise Bingo has survived bad roofs, smoking bans and thirty-four years of Ruth Bell calling the numbers. On its final night, Evelyn Cross returns in green sequins with a letter from Ruth’s dead husband.
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